


To build a home

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: I like marrying angst with fluff, Im so proud because this one has a happy ending, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, but this isnt one thatll make you cry I dont think, flashbacks to preserum steve and bucky, post winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4841135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is struggling with memories that refuse to go away after Bucky leaves him on the shore of the Potomac River. They're fond ones but they make his chest ache for a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and an innocent love that the world never knew existed. </p><p>[I climbed the tree to see the world<br/>When the gusts came around to blow me down<br/>Held on as tightly as you held on me<br/>And I built a home<br/>for you<br/>for me]</p>
            </blockquote>





	To build a home

**Author's Note:**

> 99% inspired by this gif set http://givemebackmybucky.tumblr.com/post/129522095137

"What makes you happy?"

Sam's words echo in Steve's head as he curls up on his couch and puts on another record. He prefers to sit in the dark because, for a moment, he can pretend that nothing has changed - sometimes it even works.

 **_Bucky_ ** _was always the answer to that but he doesn't want anything to do with me. I don't know anymore._

He recalls the words he'd spoken what feels like centuries ago, in a haze of shock and pain - _"Even when I had nothing I had Bucky."_

Memories wade in like thick fog and he can't find his way out - 

\-----------------

**Summer 1941**

"Ya know...if I'd known you were so messy I might not have moved in," Steve grumbles as he pokes at a dirty dish that looks like its been 'soaking' for at least three days.

"It's not _that_ bad," Bucky counters as he begins to pick up old newspapers and scattered dishes.

He'd do just about anything to keep Steve from leaving.

"Buck there's spaghetti on this one and I know you've been outta sauce for weeks."

"Maybe I didn't wanna waste water," retorts Bucky, with a shrug.

Steve carefully stacks up the dirty dishes and pushes his shirt sleeves up, mumbles about how Bucky's ma wouldn't be happy with him.

"I heard that."

"Heard what?," Steve drops three plates into sudsy water and begins to scrub off the stubborn remnants of food.

"You goin' on about my ma and how she'd never let me live it down if she knew the state of our apartment," Bucky leans up against the kitchen counter and grins.

"Well don't jus' stand there, you can rinse."

Bucky joins him at the sink and nudges him with his hip - "You in the mood for spaghetti tonight?"

Steve makes a face - "No and I don't think I ever will be after this."

"But I make the best spaghetti and you know it."

Steve smirks and passes a plate to Bucky - "If you say so."

"Aw come'on Steve, you can't insult a mans cookin' _and_ his cleanin'."

"How 'bout this? _You_ do the cooking, I'll keep the place from gettin' condemned by the city," Steve compromises as he drains the sink water and passes a final dish to Bucky.

"You got it."

\---------------

Steve sighs and drags out a medium sized pot - fills it with water and spaghetti noodles.

_Wish you were here._

\-----------------

**Winter 1941**

"It's c-c-cold in here Buck," Steve shivers under his pile of blankets. He's huddled on the couch with knees drawn up against his chest and he can't stop shivering.

It's not snowing outside, not yet, but it's frigid enough that the poor insulation in their apartment isn't doing its job.

Bucky sighs and tugs the sheet off of the bed that they share (as they always have, since they were children) as it's the only remaining bit of warmth that they have left. He carefully wraps it around Steve even as his own teeth are chattering.

"D-d-don't be stupid B-Buck, you're gonna get sick. G-get under the covers," Steve orders.

Bucky doesn't protest - it's a wonder that his lips haven't frozen together by now. Steve's teeth stop chattering quite as loud when Bucky gets under the mountain of covers (thin though they are) and all but wraps his entire body around him.

"S-see? You should listen to me sometimes," Steve jabs Bucky in the side with a sharp elbow.

"Tryin' to keep _you_ warm is all. I got body fat but you don't," Bucky replies.

" _You're_ warm, that helps," Steve curls up closer against Bucky and lays his head on his shoulder. He's no longer freezing and Bucky feels like maybe, just maybe, he'll survive this Winter. He'd pray to any God that would listen if he made it so.

"I'm good for somethin'," Bucky remarks.

"You're good for a whole lotta things like cooking and unclogging the sink."

Bucky scoffs - "So I'm a handyman who can cook."

"And a heater. Don't forget that one," Steve says with a grin.

"Ah yeah, that one 'cause nobody else can do that- jus' me."

Steve pinches Bucky's arm nice and hard.

"Why'd you do that?"

" 'cause you're bein' a big jerk."

"How?"

"You jus' are, now hush. 'mm tired."

The sun had set hours ago and the apartment was lit with dim lighting as they fell asleep together, a tangle of arms, legs and scratchy blankets with a sheet over top.

\------------------

Steve drains the spaghetti and dumps a jar of sauce in, thinks about Bucky's dirty dishes and their apartment in Brooklyn. It had its issues - that was for damn sure - but if they could go back he'd change everything. He wouldn't complain a bit, he'd make Bucky stay home more often, they'd eat spaghetti every night if that's what it took.

_Where are you Buck? I need you._

_\------------------_

**December 25, 1941  
**

"Got you somethin' Steve. 'is not much but..." Bucky places a messily wrapped object on the kitchen table. It's covered in newspaper, carefully tucked in some areas and Steve can hardly contain his happiness. It could be a rock for all he cares - it's the thought that counts.

"Told you not to do that," Steve scoffs as he peels back the paper. Bucky bites his lip and watches from the kitchen doorway.

It's a box of brand new pencils - sharpened to a point. The kind that would've cost more than your average pencil because Bucky knows how important sketching is to Steve. He packs his tiny sketchbook everywhere they go.

Steve cradles the gift as if it were the most precious thing in the world and rushes over to give Bucky a tight hug. Bucky grunts with the force of it but returns it with the same ferocity.

"Thanks Buck."

Two words that make Bucky light up like a Christmas tree - he grins and drops a kiss to Steve's forehead - "Merry Christmas, punk."

Steve shoves him away - "I'll be right back."

"What? Steve? No," Bucky protests.

Steve ignores him and comes out of the other room with a gift that matched Bucky's in its newspaper wrapping paper. He pushes it into Bucky's hands and waits. Bucky shakes his head and tears back the paper to reveal a new slotted spoon - solid black with holes in the middle. Bucky was never one to complain but their last remaining one had broken months ago and he'd been making do the best he could.

Bucky shakes his head and grins - "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to. 'sides we can't have you messin' up dinner can we?"

Bucky doesn't snark back, gives Steve a watery smile - "Thanks Steve."

"Merry Christmas Buck," Steve places the spoon beside of his pencils and hugs Bucky once more - they stand there in the middle of the kitchen with arms tightly wound around the others' waist and Steve thinks - _This is the best Christmas I've ever had._

\---------------------

Steve gets three bites into his spaghetti before pushing it away - he can't swallow past the knot in his stomach.

_We were happy once._

It's midnight and he can't sleep. He'd assumed cooking and a heavy carb meal would help - it hadn't. He makes his way to his room with its neatly made bed that rarely got slept in and its fluffy pillows that he can't get used to & retrieves a framed photo from his dresser. He keeps it beside of a black and white still of Peggy. It's Bucky in his uniform, eyes sad and mouth parted as he stares at something in the distance. It was the only photo he had aside from the ones he chose not to think about. They were stuffed into Bucky's Hydra folder and he avoided them at all costs. He'd read the entire file in one sitting and hadn't since.

_Please come home. I still need you._

\--------------------

**January 05, 1942  
**

"Get dressed, we're goin' out." 

Bucky grins and Steve deflates - likely another double date that would end in disaster. 

_You don't get it do you? I don't want anyone but you, idiot._

"Where we goin'?"

"You'll see," Bucky pulls on a t-shirt and throws a button up over it - does up every button but the last two at the top.

" 'mm not in the mood for a date," Steve grumbles.

"Good. 'Cause we're not goin' on one," Bucky calls from the other room.

Steve puts his jacket on and doesn't bother with changing his shirt. He hardly has any clothes, for that matter, and what he does have makes him appear older or so he hopes.

Bucky strides into the room all confidence and charm with jacket draped over his arm. His hair is slicked back and Steve wonders if he knows how handsome he really is - he might as well be a movie star. Still he makes Steve feel like _he's_ the handsome one, with nothing more than a look.

"You gonna tell me where we're goin'?," Steve questions as he puts his shoes on.

"Not 'till we get there."

They end up at the local cinema as Bucky bounces on his heels while they're in line. It's rare that they can catch a movie seeing as every penny is pinched for medication, rent and bills.

"Two for Fantasia."

The employee hands them their tickets and Bucky loops his arm with Steve's and all but drags him to the screening area. It's crowded with people but they manage to find two seats near the top.

Steve can't help but smile at Bucky's enthusiasm. He loves music of all kinds and his knee bounces along no matter what the tune is. 

The picture begins - music starting softly at first and rising, falling, as the animation on screen lights up. A small fairy with long delicate wings illuminates leaves and flowers and Bucky's eyes are as big as saucers when he nudges Steve's arm - "Did you see that?"

_No, I was too busy watching you. It's better than any film._

Steve nods - "Mmhmm."

Toward the end of the movie spirits begin to rise from their graves and float away as the music makes delicate sounds and Bucky takes Steve's hand in his own - grins widely with eyes still glued to the screen.

_This is the best date ever._

He does not let go until the movie ends and the other viewers begin to file out.

"Holy cow. That was amazing," Bucky remarks as they make their way out.

Steve squints against the bright sunlight reflecting off of melting snow - "Sure was."

They return home after and Bucky does something incredible with potatoes and what few ingredients they have on hand. They forgo the kitchen table and eat on the couch as Bucky babbles on about the music, the rhythm and the animation.

_You make me feel like Fantasia makes you feel._

\------------------

Steve passes out somewhere around 4am with the picture clutched against his chest and sleeps fitfully - dreams of Bucky falling and recalling the crash into icy water as it burned his lungs but he couldn't will his limbs to work. For that matter he remembered, vividly, why he'd taken on the mission that was certain to result in his death. _Bucky._ He simply couldn't find a reason to stay behind. It's similar to Sam's recollection of how he couldn't find a reason to stay in the military after Riley's death only Steve had went one step further.

_\------------------_

**Two years later - Spring**

Bucky is sitting stiffly on a kitchen bar stool across from Steve - he has been back for five months, four weeks. Steve has been keeping track because some days it feels like Bucky isn't there at all where others it's as if it's 1942 all over again. His hair has been trimmed but brushes his shoulders none the less and his eyes aren't as sparkling as they once were but he's _there_ and everyday, Steve expects to wake up alone again with nothing but the echo of his own voice and a single faded picture.

"You used to cook, 'member that?," Steve dumps rice into boiling water on the stove and slides a pan of chicken into the hot oven. He never really cooked until Bucky came back - didn't eat much for that matter.

"Wasn't very good at it," Bucky replies.

"We survived though, didn't we?," Steve says with a smile as he takes his place beside of Bucky once more.

"Barely."

"Ate a lot of spaghetti since it was one of the few things you could make without burning."

Bucky shakes his head - "Spaghetti for dinner, lunch, breakfast..."

"Sometimes we had potatoes though," Steve finishes.

"Potatoes are near impossible to mess up," Bucky grins as he runs his right hand through his hair.

_I'll never get tired of that smile._

"Yet somehow you managed," Steve laughs. Before Bucky had came back (with memories in tact - the best day of Steve's life by far) Steve hadn't enjoyed life - he'd lived one mission to the next. Survived.

Steve's phone rings with an upbeat piano tune - Sam.

Bucky checks the oven and eyes the rice as Steve takes the phone to the living room.

"Hey Sam."

"You sound happy," Sam remarks.

"Yeah...well."

"You found it then?," Sam asks and Steve can tell hes grinning on the other end.

"Found what?"

"What makes you happy," Sam answers.

Steve peeks at the kitchen to find Bucky hunched over a cook book that Tony had gifted Steve with last year as a joke - it was published in 1933 and though Tony would never know, Steve actually uses it.

He can't help but smile as he retreats back to the living room, nearly trips over Bucky's shoes that he left haphazardly, in the middle of the room.

"Yeah. Yeah I did."

Steve can practically picture Sam's warm toothy smile - they worked hard for this. Spent over two years combing every area that Bucky might've gone to and it had paid off when they'd located him in a rundown cement building with miniscule windows and Steve had cried as he held Bucky against his chest. There wasn't a dry eye in that room.

"What about you?"  Sam deserves happiness - he's an amazing friend and overall good person. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

"I'm working on it."

"Oh?"

"Don't get all excited, I'm not even sure if she likes me back."

_She will._

"What's her name?"

Steve hears Bucky mutter and cuss under his breath as he takes the rice off of the burner. The apartment is beginning to smell like burnt popcorn.

"Sharon. She's a nice girl."

"I'm happy for you man. I have to go though, okay? Talk soon?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, get back to him," Sam teases.

"Talk to you later Sam."

He hits the end button and finds Bucky glaring at the pot that's now resting on the counter.

"Burnt?"

Bucky nods - "Still edible though. I think."

Steve examines it - the top half is white and fluffy and the rest is stuck to the bottom.

"Should've stuck with potatoes," Steve mumbles as he scrapes it in the trash.

"The chicken is fine though," Bucky takes the pan out of the oven and Steve nearly yelps as he realizes he's not wearing a cooking mitt. Sure he has a nice shiny metal arm but that doesn't mean it's not a gut reaction to assume his hand is burnt.

"I bought you those pot holders for a reason, Buck."

Bucky rolls his eyes and Steve thinks - _some things never change._

"Told you, I can't feel it."

"I know but I can _see_ it and it freaks me out so don't do it."

Bucky groans dramatically and plates the chicken.

"Was that Sam?"

Steve places the plates on the table as he answers - "Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

Sam and Bucky have established a steady friendship and it makes Steve happy that the two of them can see in one another what he sees in them.

"He's good - says he met someone."

Bucky raises an eyebrow - "Oh? Who is he?"

Steve laughs. Bucky has surprised him by being more accepting of modern relationships than he would've ever thought but then again they _had_ an established (though never out loud) relationship (dotted with sketchy double dates to fend off suspicion) when they were younger. Hydra had not taken that from them.

It gives him hope.

" _She._ Sharon."

Bucky nods and collects two forks.

"Does she like him back?"

Steve shrugs - "Not sure. Hopefully."

Bucky eyes the plates - "Lets eat on the couch."

Steve grins - "I'd like that."

They huddle together as they have many times before in a decade that now only exists in history books and their shared memories, as close as they can get and Steve remembers what it feels like to be happy.

When they're finished Bucky throws a blanket over them and carefully places their dishes on the floor.

"It's not Winter but..." he begins.

"-doesn't have to be," Steve finishes as he buries his head in Bucky's neck - it causes him to shiver.

Bucky turns his head to the side to say something and Steve seizes the opportunity because its been too damn long since he has kissed his best friend. The last time was 1944, to be exact. It was fleeting and they were standing on the edge of death in an exploding Hydra facility. They hadn't talked about it after. Bucky had flirted with him but then Peggy had burst his bubble and he'd spent the rest of the night drinking even more and sloppily touching Steve - which Steve didn't mind that part. Not at all but he wanted something more. Bucky had fallen from the train months after that night, before he'd worked up the nerve to spill his guts. He'd carried that regret with him ever since.

"Buck..." he whispers as he cups Bucky's cheek in his palm.

Bucky's breath comes hot and ragged against Steve's as he closes his eyes.

Steve brushes a thumb across Bucky's bottom lip and it causes his mouth to open just enough for Steve to lean in and taste what he could never have - not fully at least. Sure they'd held hands and Bucky had kissed him more than once but there had always been double dates and never enough time. Theirs was a love that was never meant to bloom in an era that condemned it, a precious secret. But here and now they could be anything.

Bucky traces Steve's lip with his tongue and kisses him soft and slow - he tastes like paprika and salt, like _home._

Steve bites a trail along his neck and gently sucks - leaving tiny spots to mark his way.

He mouths Bucky's ear as he whispers - "Remember Fantasia? You make me feel like that on the inside."

It's not his smoothest line but he knows that Bucky will understand. Bucky grabs onto his hips and drags him in for a passionate kiss - lips slick against one anothers and bodies clinging together desperately.

"Thought it was just me," Bucky grins and sinks his teeth into Steve's shoulder before following it with his tongue.

Steve laughs - he cannot find the words for what he's feeling right now.

Bucky Barnes was certainly worth waiting for.

 

The framed picture on Steve's dresser is soon joined by a recent one with wide grins and Steve's arms wrapped around Bucky's shoulders and neck as Bucky presses a kiss to his cheek. Sam had taken it and nearly tossed it citing that Steve's hand was blurry and it was but all Steve saw when he looked at it was _happy._

_**He** is what makes me happy.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkP6Tf79UrM
> 
> 1940s Fantasia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e_pbpmzczI
> 
> my apologies if you feel hungry after reading this. I might've been hungry when I wrote it, I plead the 5th.


End file.
